


the fluff of dandelions and baby bird

by thefudge



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Love/Hate, Understanding, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a strange communion between two people, ost: debbie reynolds - tammy, villain/heroine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: It's the softness that makes one dangerous, she thinks incoherently.  Arthur/Sophie post-movie
Relationships: Sophie Dumond/Arthur Fleck
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	the fluff of dandelions and baby bird

Sophie loves the smell of her daughter’s head right after a bath. The fluff of dandelions and baby bird.

She loves toweling her, taking her little fists in her hand and prying the fingers open.

Gigi pretends not to like being fussed over, but she doesn’t put up much of a fight. In fact, most night, she falls asleep in Sophie’s arms.

When he pays her the visit, her daughter is breathing evenly in her lap, thumb pressed against her mouth. Gigi doesn’t like to suck on it. She likes to keep it close, though.

Sophie’s breath hitches in her throat. Her arm instinctively goes round Gigi’s tiny body, caging her daughter, blocking her from view.

Arthur is not really Arthur.

He's painted in garish colors, wearing a dapper suit and an unlit cigarette behind his ear. Hands in his pockets, he leans against the door frame, staring down at her. He seems confident and unperturbed, so different from the man who came into her apartment, seeking a reprieve. Yet there’s still something churlish and vulnerable about the built of his shoulders, the slant of his mouth. It's the softness that makes one dangerous, she thinks incoherently. 

Sophie lifts one trembling finger to her lips.

 _Please, don’t make a sound_ , she begs with her eyes. _Please, not in front of my daughter._

Arthur’s eyes glint menacingly. He seems insulted by her gesture.

“No need for that,” he says very quietly. “I come bearing gifts.”

Sophie notes the familiar gentleness in his voice, even if it's braided with barbed wire now.

When she first saw him on TV, she didn’t recognize him, or didn’t _want_ to recognize him.

“I don’t want anything from you,” she says, just as quietly.

“No,” he agrees with a grunt. “But you still need it.”

 _Need what?_ she wants to ask, but he’s already turning away, sliding gracefully towards her living room.

Sophie doesn’t want to let her daughter go, but she can’t wait in here like a coward. She carefully disentangles herself, letting Gigi’s head fall softly on the pillow.

Sophie looks around for a weapon, but it’s a halfhearted search. She doesn’t really want to – she doesn’t think he’s come here to hurt her.

She starts walking, following in his footsteps.

The living room is chockful of boxes and packages and duffel bags. Some are filled with toys and books and clothes, others are filled with hard cash.

Sophie stares.

Arthur stands in the middle of this bounty and opens up his arms in a sardonic “ _Tada_!”

“What did you–”

“I took the liberty,” he says, voice like gravel melting in the sun, “of purchasing a few items. I noticed Gigi needed a new winter coat.”

“I can’t take _all_ of this,” she says, but she places the wrong emphasis on words, as if she were letting him know she could accept _some._

He lights his cigarette. “It’s fine. Give the rest to the neighbors. Anyone you know. Anyone in need.”

Sophie scratches the side of her arm. _Why_ , she wants to ask.

“You snuck up on me,” she says instead. “How did you get in?”

Arthur exhales smoke. “Like I always do. Unnoticed.”

“Pretty noticeable now, what with…” she trails off, meaning to say _the_ _killings_. But she’s not that brave. “Your new look.”

He grins suddenly, a wide red smile that makes her nervous. “You like?”

And Sophie doesn’t plan on giving him anything at all, yet she still chuckles. She hates that she slips. She looks down, mortified.

Arthur’s grin solidifies. “You do. I knew you would. You like oddballs, don’t you?” 

Sophie stares at a bag of money at her feet. God, how did it get like this? And why doesn’t she feel _more_ afraid?

“You know, when I used to follow you…” he says, taking a few steps towards her, cigarette dangling between fingers, “I used to watch the people around you. I used to watch the way you moved past them… the way you made room for yourself. Quiet, but determined. No one turned their head to look back at you. It angered me. No one noticed you, but me. No one stalked you, except me. They _should_ have. They should have tracked you down, followed your scent. They should have hunted you and caught you and never let you go.”

His words are soft and violent - almost a whisper - a threat to an invisible enemy. They do strange things to her.

Sophie takes an instinctive step back, but something keeps her in this room, in front of him.

“They don’t see beauty, even when it walks past them every day,” he says, coming closer. “But I see you, Sophie. I will _always_ see you.”

He is inches away now. A head taller, yet shrinking, as if she were seeing him from across the room. He’s a mirage, there and not there. Elusive, ghostly, smelling of paint grease and cigarettes and jasmine – her perfume, her scent. She lifts her chin.

“Yeah, I see you too. Y-You’re hiding in plain sight,” she rasps. “You’re a symbol now…not a person.”

The Joker - because that is the screen, the mirror – leans forward, nose almost brushing against her nose.

“Then accept _his_ gifts…accept the _Joker’s_ generosity,” he speaks words into her mouth.

Sophie parts her lips. A part of her hates him, hates how he insinuated himself in her life without warning. Another part, however, is asleep and betrays her.

Arthur suddenly holds the lit cigarette over the bag of money at her feet.

“If not…I can make it go away.”

His fingers dangle almost carelessly over the bills. She can already see the flames engulfing the money.

Sophie looks up at him, licks her lips. She wants to say, _fuck your money and fuck you too_ , but she also wants to fuck him and she wants to fuck his money too.

Arthur’s hand pirouettes dangerously. He so loves to dance. 

Sophie catches it quickly. She holds him by the wrist. Smoke whirls up from the cigarette.

His skin is sickeningly warm.

Arthur smiles. “Didn’t think so.”

He sidesteps her, gently removing his arm from her grasp.

Sophie exhales sharply. She feels stung. 

Arthur walks to the door. He pauses to arrange the lapels of his suit.

“You’re a cold motherfucker, you know that?” she bites back, not looking at him, not wanting him to see her face. 

The Joker laughs, delighted.

“I’ll be seeing you around, _doll_. Give Gigi my love.”

Sophie sneaks into the bed next to Gigi. Her daughter stirs for a moment.

“Mommy?”

“Go back to bed, baby.”

She kisses her daughter’s head, inhales the smell of innocence, a rare bottled scent that will soon fade. She stares at the dollar bills on the floor. She left a trail of money in her wake, to make sure that it’s real. This place is now tainted, she knows. Maybe she is too.

But she smiles against her daughter’s skull. That’s the terrifying part – the _happiness_.

It’s like he said. Those fuckers got what they deserved.

And so did she.


End file.
